Tank

by Trixie Brewster

  Tank plunged his tongue into the recess of my mouth. Sucking on his tongue gifted me a groan from him. My pussy clenched, knowing that I was able to affect this brute of a man. His rod was hard under my ass. Grinding down on him as our tongues battled with each other. Fist in my hair, he pulled just right and tilted my head, so he was able to pillage what he wanted from my mouth. Moaning as I felt his hands on my ass, squeezing the flesh and making their way up to my breast. Felling his deft fingers on my breasts and nipple elicited a moan from me. All Tank had to do was look at me, and I was ready. With his hands on my body, I was like putty, my body was calling out to him. My inner slut was chanting. Yes, Yes, fuck me, fuck me hard. Maybe that inner slut knew what she was putting out there in my mind.

  Tank pulled back enough to tell me, “God, Angie, what you do to me. Babe, what the hell kind of spell do you have on me?” Those words fell over my body like he was the one putting a spell on me, my body was his to command.

  “You’re the one with the mojo, not me,” I tell him on a breath. Pulling his head back down to me. I couldn’t get enough of his lips and his lip ring. Nibbling on it, I felt his lips pull into a smile.

  “Damn, woman. Knowing I was your first makes my cock want to be buried in your pussy.” His eyes were smoldering full of desire.

  “Yes, please.”

  That was the magic word. My underwear was ripped off me, and my shirt was thrown across the room. Pulling at Tank’s shirt, he helped me by pulling it off. I latched onto his pec and raked my nails down his chest. “Fuck, woman, fuck,” hearing those words spurred me on. Taking his tight tan nipple in my mouth, I gave it a small nibble, he pulled away with a hiss. My bra fell to the floor with the rest of our tops. He took my pebbled nipple in his mouth, and I ground my hot lady bits over his hard dick and moaned as he sucked and raked his teeth over my over-sensitive breasts.

  "Tank, please, Tank,” moaning out my pleas for him to do something anything. This growing need in my belly keeps getting bigger and bigger, proving that my demand for him is too high. I didn’t know how I could possibly think I could leave him. This man came in made me date him and took my heart away in the process. Leaning us back on the bed with him still clad in his jeans between my legs. He had too many clothes on, I needed to rectify this and fast. Fumbling with his jeans and getting them unbuttoned, Tank helped by getting off the bed and letting them fall to the floor. My pussy clenched, knowing that he went commando. Getting back in between my legs, Tank sank in face into my breasts again. Feeling the heat from his breath and his mouth, and I let another moan and his name fall from my lips.

  “Hale, baby, call me Hale.” He breathes into my breasts. Testing out his given name in my thoughts, he doesn’t give me much time. Hale’s large hand slowly makes it’s ascent up my thigh to the apex of my legs. Kissing back up to my neck and to my lips, he took my lips with force as I felt his fingers intrude my lady bits, first one finger and then two. “Always wet for me,” Hale said on my lips.

  “Always, only you,” I replied. Hale groaned as he retook my lips.

  “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

  “What are you waiting for then?”

  “Fuck, woman. I am trying to take it slow.” Hale rested his forehead against mine as I let out a groan and laugh.

  “We never take it slow. Why start now?” I don’t understand why he thinks he has to be gentle now. He was never soft, and I don’t want him to be a gentle lover. There was only one time that he took it slow, but I didn’t want that. I wanted Tank, the bad boy biker, to ravage me. I love the time we spent together in the bedroom, hard, rough, and fast. He wouldn’t be who he was if he was different.

  “Woman, I want to show you how much I care.” Hale’s response left me breathless.

  “Then fucking show me.” I challenge him. his blue eyes grow darker with is desire, and I smile because I got him right where I want him. His hard, thick dick lines up with my pussy, and I groan as I feel him slide up and down my slit. He slides home in a slow motion, I can feel how much he stretches and fills me up. It never gets old the way he makes me feel when he is inside me. Hale grabs one of my thighs and hooks it over his hip, giving him deeper access. The pace Hale set was torturous, to say the least. Quick in, slow out. Quick in, slow out. Digging my nails into his back as I feel the pressure building in my middle, I need more to set me over the edge. “Hale, please.” I plea.

  “Repeat what you said,” Hale responds. Trying to rack my brain as to what I said.

  “Hale, please. I need more.” I beg I have never been one to beg, but here I am having slow sex for a change with this man that I am falling head over heels for, and Hale has me begging.

  “You want me to fuck you, senseless? Is that what you want, babe?”

  “God, yes. Hale, please fuck me.” Gritting out between my teeth, the pressure is an ebb and flow as he thrust into me, it builds, and as he pulls out slowly, it flows out with his cock. I can’t take it anymore. I need him to fuck me hard so I can chase that orgasm down.

  Hale raises up and slips my thighs over his shoulders. “Ready?” before I can respond, he thrust hard into me and bottoms out. Groaning out my response is all I can do. The pounding that Hale gives me has me throwing my head from side to side. “Oh, god, Hale, don’t stop.” He has me yelling out into the room. Hale slips a hand between our connected bodies as he rubs my clit, all it takes is him to rub that little bundle of nerves three times before I combust. “Hale, Hale. Oh, god.” I scream out as my body convulses down on his cock.

  “Fuck, Angie. Your greedy pussy is gripping me so fucking tight.” He leans down and drowns out my moans with his lips. My knees on either side of my head. He hits me deeper as he thrusts hard into me. I can feel another orgasm building in me. “Fuck babe, you gotta come again.” Kissing me hard, I dig my nails into his back as I feel the pressure the building up into a tight ball. Hale pulls back and pins my legs down by my head and thrust his cock into me hard and deep. His thick cock moving in and out of me, hitting that perfect spot. “That’s it, babe, let it go.” Hale urges my orgasm on. “Come for me, baby.” My body listens to his command, and I see stars as my pussy convulses on its own.

  “Fuck, yes. Angie!” Hale yells out as he finds his own release. Rolling over, he takes me with him. Resting my head on his chest, running my hand up and down his washboard abs. Nothing is said for a while as we try and catch our breath. Hale runs his fingers up and down my side. Damn this man for making me fall for him. All he had to do was force his way into my life, and that was it, I forgot who I was, who my father was and all that has happened to me. Letting him in was more comfortable than I thought it would be to let anyone in.

  Ever since that night, six years ago, there was no way I wanted anyone to know about it. I knew that I would need help, but I refused to talk to other people about it. There was just no way in hell; I wanted people to see me as something I was not. I am not a victim but a survivor. I refuse to be seen as anything less. But talking with Hale about it wasn’t what I thought it would be. There was no pity, only anger in his eyes. Anger I could deal with, I could handle anger. I wanted those assholes to pay, I wanted revenge, but not at my father’s cost. I didn’t want their blood, and if my father knew what happened, that would have been exactly what would have happened. More than just the four of them would have paid for what happened that night. They might not be innocent men, but only four partook in what transpired that night. Those were the four I wanted to pay.

  But, what if I had told him about it, then maybe my mama wouldn’t have been taken. Because they would not be walking on this planet right now. They would be in the pits of hell where they belonged. If I lay here and think about the what if’s then I would never get any sleep, I would be all consumed with the thoughts of what I could have done differently. I know my mama is still alive somewhere I can feel it deep inside me, that is what I need to focus on. And trust my father and Tank’s club to bring her back. Because they have to succeed in
getting her back to us. They just have to. I want so badly to tell her what I have found in Tank and get her advice on what I should do. I want to stay, but I know deep down that if even one piece of the snake is left, that it will regrow, and this nightmare will only end when I am dead and gone.

  Chapter 23

  Angela

  Finally getting a good look at the cabin, it makes me laugh knowing that I have been here for a few days and never got to see where I was staying. It is a small one-bedroom adobe. The inside is done in rustic tones and décor. The couch looks to be hand-carved with maroon cushions. The kitchen table seems to be hand-carved as well, with a Texas star in the center of the table. The craftsmanship is astounding around the cabin. The curtains are also maroon, as is the kitchen cabinets. Red is not generally my color, but it works with the wooden walls. It makes everything seem inviting. Under different circumstances, I could see myself staying here for a weekend getaway.

  The centerpiece that my eyes fall on is Tank standing in the kitchen next to the French doors. He gives me a smile that makes me weak in the knees. The man truly has a panty-melting grin.

  “Come with me,” Hale tells me as he leads me outside the cabin to the attached porch outback. The two wooden rocking chairs looked inviting we sat down and watched the sunset. Hale already had a glass of wine set out and a beer for him as I sat down in the rocking chair, picking up the wine glass. “So tell me, Angie, when did you find out your father was who he is?”

  So he wants to the twenty questions game. I scoff to myself. “Already doing the twenty questions?” Raising my brow at him. He gives me a small smile and nods his head.

  “You gonna answer the question?” He gives me an encouraging smile. I roll my eyes at him as I take a sip or who I am kidding a large gulp of my wine.

  “I was thirteen when I found out. Surprise, surprise everything I thought I knew was a lie. But it didn’t change the way I looked at my father, though. He was still the same man that I knew, just a little deadlier, I guess.” Pursing my lips, on the memory of finding out that my dad was, in fact, the head of the Irish mob. I didn’t know what to think. I was only a teen when I found out. I still loved him the same, but as I got older, the more I found out that because I was his daughter, it put me in danger. His enemies could use me against him. I thought about Bear, my angel, I didn’t know if I wanted to share that with him. “I am sure you heard about that night that I was taken.” He nods his head with a frown on his features, his forehead creases, and I want to rub them away. “That night, I was saved by Bear, I didn’t know who he was, but I knew that he was an angel, or I guess I call him my angel.” I shrug my shoulders like its no big deal.

  “Wait, you mean Bear, as in the former President of Angels and Sinners MC, like bear as in Brick’s dad, that Bear?” He askes with an awed look on his face as he waits for me to respond.

  I blink a few times, I guess I never thought about it too much. I didn’t know that the two were related. I mean, I never got a good look at him that night. I just remember how he held me and got me out of there. For the first time that night, I felt safe, like nothing could get hurt me. “I guess, I mean only met him once, and I was kind of in shock. But I d know he was the President. I never got to tell him thank you for being there. But at least once a month, I visit him.” I take another big gulp of my wine, surprised when the glass is empty.

  “What do you mean you visit him?” Concern war in his eyes.

  “Oh, god, not like that, Tank. I take him flowers at the cemetery and just talk to him. I talk about my month, and whatever is on my mind. You know things I couldn’t tell my father.” I don’t have to explain any further, Tank’s eyes widen, and he nods his head.

  “Makes sense, from what I’ve heard, the man was a good man. Brick doesn’t talk too much about him. But when he does, it is nothing but good. Bear was someone that you could trust.” I agree although I didn’t know him like that, but when I am there, I feel at peace. I don’t know what I believe, but I do think that Bear, aka my angel, is there listening and comforting me when I need it.

  Tank tops off my wine glass as I think about why I changed my name. “I wound up changing my name when I graduated high school. Kind of part of the game, I guess.” I offer up that tidbit of information.

  “Was it your idea? To change your name.”

  “Yes, and no,” there was an argument with that one. I didn’t really want to, but I knew that if I wanted a life outside the four walls that I called home that I would have to. The fight wasn’t with my father but my mother. She wanted me to stay and do online classes and work in San Diego. But I wanted a life away from my parents and my father's legacy. Not that I was ashamed of who we were. But because I couldn’t live without the stigma of fear. When people learned about who my father was, there was no more friendship. People cowered away from me, they wouldn’t make eye contact. “I wanted to change my name because I wanted out from the stigma of who my father was.”

  “Makes sense, I guess. Why would you want to put distance between you and your dad?” Hale’s features held a look of confusion. I let out a laugh before I tried to get the answer built in my head. It was simple to me, but to others, it was complicated.

  “Well, Hale, if you had known who my father was, would you have even looked at me? Give me a true answer.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hale gives me his answer. “Probably not, not because I would be scared but because we do business with him. We have a rule we don’t mix business with pleasure.”

  “Well, that is an honest answer. But not the one I generally get. Hale, people are terrified of my father. Of the last name O’Malley. When they find out my relations, all friendship is gone, and in its place is fear. I didn’t want to live that way. I want to be known for me.” With my father's name preceding me, there was no room for friends, relationships, nothing. All I got was ‘does your dad really feed the sharks with his enemies?’ or ‘is your dad really a criminal?’ To me, he is a good man, a wonderful husband, and an awesome father. The man loves hard and protects what he loves with a deadly force. There is no in-between or blurred lines with my father. You are either with him or against him.

  “Do you blame them for being scared of your father?” The smile was back on his face. Did I really blame people for their fear of my family name? Hell no. There is a reason to be fearful of my dad. The man has no qualms about taking people out. Even I was worried about dating for fear that he would make the man disappear.

  “No, I don’t. Evan O’Malley made himself a reputation. Unfortunately, it followed me.” Tilting my head for a second, I watch his expression. Hale may not express much with words, but his face tells all. There is something he doesn’t understand. “You know growing up with an Irish Mob boss, it wasn’t that bad, not really. Sure, I guess I was spoiled. But the love that was in the house was off the charts. There was always laughter, and I had to remind my parents that I was still in the house. Dances in the kitchen, watching my mom and dad was like watching a movie, they are perfect for each other.” I watch him as I tell him about my parent's love. There is so much more to their passion than just a few stolen moments and kitchen dances. But the sadness that crosses over his face breaks my heart.

  Grabbing his hand, I try to be gentle when I ask. “Hale, what happened?” Shaking his head, he tries to smile, but it fails.

  “You know my parent’s killed each other.” Those words gutted me. Knowing he hates pity, I settle for squeezing his hand instead. “The rest happened at the foster home. We only had one, but it was something kind of like a nightmare. I thought living with my parents was a nightmare but nothing compared to dealing with the Robertson’s. They gave a whole new meaning to horrors.”

  That sounded horrible, I couldn’t imagine anything worse than knowing your parents killed each other because they couldn’t get along. Hale squeezed my hand back as he continued his story. “So yeah, the mother wasn’t so bad, but Kevin their son, he had a problem keeping his hands to himself
. He set his sights on Molly. Steve was going to let it happen. Something about own us while we stayed there. So I did what I do best, I made my fist do the talking.” Hale’s eyes glaze over as he talks like he is back in that memory, reliving it all over again. I don’t like that he is in a nightmare of sorts. Knowing that he lived this.

  “I could handle most of what the old man dished out, but I had to make sure that Molly was ok. I couldn’t let Kevin get his hands on her. She was only ten years old. Who in their right mind would want to touch a ten-year-old girl, especially being nearly eighteen? Anyways I dealt with the constant beatings every night from Steve and kept Molly safe. As soon as I turned eighteen, we ran. I found a lawyer and got sole custody of Molly. That kid was something else, she was so damned hard-headed when she was teen. But we survived when I was almost twenty-four I prospected for the Angels and Sinners, and by twenty-five, I had my full patch, things got more comfortable for us. When she graduated, she made me so damned proud, she got a full ride to the university of her choosing. She still makes me proud of everything she accomplished.” He had a look of what only a father would have on his face, pride. He did an excellent job of raising Molly even though he was only a kid himself. Cue ovary explosion, Hale Stevens would make an excellent father one day. “So tell me, Angela O’Malley, after all of this shit blows over, what are you going to do?” My head spins at the change of subject. Guess that means the conversation of his past is over. What would I do? That is a million-dollar question. “I really don’t know the long term. The short term just live.”

  “Just live, not anything grand like take a vacation?” His eyebrows waggle at me.

  Spreading my arms out wide, “isn’t this a vacation?”

  “Naw, this is just trying to stay safe.” His deep voice washes over me as I think about how bad things are this time.

  “Well, you call it safe, I call it vacation.” The last word breaks when the reality of my situation hits me. “Have you heard anything about my mom yet?” I try to keep the tremble out of my voice.